


By the Sea

by archaeologist_d



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, First Time, M/M, Near Drowning, Panic Attacks, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 23:02:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5224331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archaeologist_d/pseuds/archaeologist_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is afraid of the water. And in love with Arthur. It's not a good combination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By the Sea

“Come on, Merlin. Don’t be such a girl about it.”

The blond god, aka Prat extraordinaire Arthur damn-him-for-being-so-gorgeous Pendragon, was standing there mocking him. Never mind that Merlin never learned to swim and certainly was not prepared to go diving into the ocean just because the arse he was secretly in love with was taunting him. He’d survived the idiot’s taunts before, many, many times. And being called a girl was the least of it these days.

Shaking his head, Merlin shouted back at him, “You go ahead. Be the big man of the hour for your fan club.” He gestured back to the gaggle of girls staring up at Arthur, giggling behind their hands or else looking like they’d want to eat Arthur alive – not that Merlin didn’t understand a little of what they must have been feeling. He’d wanted to do Arthur for years; the man was perfect wank material and love had nothing to do with it, no, not at all. “I’ll stay here and pick up the pieces when you break your neck, your great lummox.”

Arthur stared down at him a moment, glaring. Then puffing out his chest, he ran off the platform, doing a perfect half-turn as he dove into the cold water. Behind Merlin, there was a couple of sighs as the onlookers pressed forward, waiting for Arthur to surface.

It took a great deal longer than Merlin would have liked; it might have been a few seconds but it seemed like an eternity. Shoving down the fear that always rose up in his throat when Arthur jumped into the water like that, Merlin was able to breathe again when at last he reappeared.

Shaking his head a moment, the prat swam over towards Merlin and stood up. His skin was all golden in the sunlight, droplets streaming down that chest of his, damn him, as he waded ashore. “Come on, Merlin, it’s not that cold. I’m sure a few strokes and you would warm up fast enough.”

And wasn’t that a double entendre if ever he'd heard one. Not that Arthur meant anything by it. He never did.

“Not on your life. I know how things go. I get in there and you would be shoving me under the water, then stealing my trunks and throwing them away so that I’d have to run up the beach naked. Just to have a good laugh later with your mates. I’m not that stupid, Pendragon.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed a bit, his mouth unhappy a moment, and then he twisted his face into a knowing smirk.

“Not what I had in mind but another day when you aren’t expecting it, I might just give that one a try. Thanks.” With that, he took the towel out of Merlin’s hands and dried off his hair.

Behind him, Merlin could hear whispers but Arthur ignored them all, sat down on the blanket, and gestured for him to join him.

At least he could sit next to Arthur. On a blanket on a beach. No chance of water reaching them, no waves crashing down over them both, no ocean filling his… Merlin turned away from that thought, deliberately leaned back on the blanket and tried to relax.

For a few moments they sat there, silent and comfortable enough in the warm sunlight, staring off at the bright sea. The show clearly over, the onlookers wandered off and Merlin tried not to grimace. Arthur drew admirers like flies to honey, all that perfect skin of his and blue eyes Merlin could fall into, but today, he didn’t seem interested, and somehow the others on the beach must have sensed it. Before Merlin knew it, they were alone.

“It is never the same, you know, one moment to the next. Waves pushing me over or me swimming against the current. The sea always fighting me but it's a good fight. It's energizing. Exciting in a way that's hard to explain.” Arthur wasn’t looking at Merlin, just watching the far line of ocean meeting the sky. “And while I'm always diving into the deep end of the pool or here at the beach, you just sit on the sidelines and make excuses why you can't go in. Are you allergic to water or something?"

When Merlin didn't say anything, too ashamed to admit how terrified he was of the very idea of going into the ocean, Arthur nudged him hard.

"Because that would explain the stench.”

He glared at Arthur, trying to regain some kind of equilibrium, trying to turn the conversation away from it all. "At least I don't reek like you. I can always tell when you're near just from the stink alone."

A snort, amusement quickly suppressed, and as he turned toward Merlin, Arthur tried to looked offended, as offended as he could be considering that they'd played the same insult game for years. It was comfortable and easy and quite useful in diverting conversations away from things that mattered. Merlin just hoped Arthur would forget about the swimming and maybe they could trade insults and then horse around instead.

Not that a bit of horse play wasn't fraught with danger as well, just a different kind of danger, one with skin and skin and touching and Merlin didn't want to think about that, either.

"You need to get your sense of smell checked, _Mer_ lin. It is obvious that you have problems dealing with my masculine scent." The cheeky bastard was grinning.

Merlin just shook his head, rolling his eyes in a way that Arthur was sure to see. "Is that what we're calling it these days?"

Instead of trading more insults, Arthur grabbed onto Merlin's neck and shoved him under his armpit. As Merlin squawked, and pushed, trying frantically to get away, Arthur just laughed. "My masculine scent. Eau de Arthur." He let the struggling go on a moment, then with one last press of his hand across Merlin's neck, Arthur let him go.

He'd wanted to enjoy that, he'd wanted it so much but he couldn't let the prat get away with manhandling him like that. Shoving himself back, furiously rubbing at his nose, Merlin made a show of scrunching up his face as if he smelled something terrible. "Eau de Idiot, more like."

With that, Arthur spread one hand over his heart. "I'm wounded, Merlin, wounded that you cannot recognise my greatness."

"What? For being a great prat?" For a moment, Merlin mirrored Arthur's hand-on-the-heart, then shook his head.

"Obviously you need to have your eyes opened. Prats are just what girl's petticoats such as yourself need." Arthur was settling back, relaxed and smiling and looking as if he was enjoying himself.

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not a girl's petticoat or anything else even resembling a girl."

Arthur huffed at that, shaking his head and grinning. "Daffodil, then."

"Wanker."

"Arse."

"Git."

For a moment, Merlin thought that would be the last of it. Often, when the one-word insults ran out, and they couldn't think of anything else, it would take a while before they'd start again. They'd always start up again - eventually. That's just what they did.

At least they weren’t talking about the water. He shuffled around, trying to get comfortable, and as he stretched out, his elbows digging into the blanket, he heard Arthur say, "I did notice."

But it was so soft a murmur that Merlin almost missed it, and when he looked up again, Arthur was already turning away.

He wanted to ask Arthur what he meant but he didn't want to push it, especially in a public place. So he let it go, trying instead to enjoy the warm breeze and sunshine.

For a while, they just sat there, watching others diving off the dock, listening to the sounds of laughter and the water crashing onto the shore.

One bloke was throwing a ball into the sea and his little terrier would chase after it. It was pretty funny, especially when the dog would come out, ball in mouth and lay it at his master's feet and stand there, wagging his tail madly, winding himself up for the next run into the water.

The dog's owner must have been having fun, too, because he fake-threw the ball a couple of times and the idiot terrier would fall for it, plunging into the ocean, then turning back when he realised it wasn't there. Finally, as the bloke let the ball go, the dog gave a quick bark and dove back in.

"Even the dog likes the water. Looks like he's having a brilliant time." Arthur gestured toward the scene, giving a little laugh as he watched.

"I'm not a dog, you twat."

Arthur sent him an all-too-fake glare, then turned back to watch the terrier swimming around, having the time of his life. Merlin felt a sudden pang of affection for the pillock. He said, "Of course, you might be part dog yourself. You're the one who likes to dive headlong into things, be the dog's bollocks in Camelot. It would explain a great deal."

"You're the one talking bollocks." Arthur turned over, elbowing Merlin as he did so. "I just like to be on top."

Another innuendo. Merlin wanted to say yes, he wanted Arthur to be on top or underneath or anywhere at all. But that wasn't how the game was played, not between them.

"In your dreams, Pendragon." It was lame but Merlin wasn't feeling particularly witty at the moment.

Silence. He'd left an opening that Arthur could drive a tank through, but instead he just glanced at Merlin a moment, then turned to watch the scene: the dog playing in the shallows, the ocean, kids splashing around, bright laughter on their faces, older teens diving off the platform that Arthur had used just a few minute before. He sat there a long time, a frown gathering on his face, as if he were trying to puzzle something out. Finally, he said, "Why won't you go in the water?"

Shit. Arthur was using his regular voice, not mocking or derogatory, but as if he really wanted to know.

Merlin had never told him, never told anyone before; no one knew, well except his mum. But when Arthur was acting at least a little less like a prat, Merlin couldn't taunt him, or frankly, lie to him.

“I nearly drowned when I was a kid.”

“Oh.” Arthur turned on his side, then sat up, looking at Merlin with what seemed to be genuine concern. There was understanding there, too, but it threw Merlin a bit. He wasn't used to it; it was unnatural, especially without Arthur's snarky insults following close behind. "So you can't swim?"

Shame flooded Merlin's face a moment. But in for a penny, in for a pound. Arthur would probably figure it out anyway.

“No. My mum tried to give me lessons but I could never get over it.” Merlin turned away, looked down at the sand beneath his toes, curled them inward in memory. “I know that you love it but every time I see you diving into the water, I remember….”

Arthur’s hand was warm against his shoulder. Shaking him a little, his face open and as kind as Merlin had ever seen him, he said, “I could teach you.”

“It’s… it’s just too hard. You’d mock me and I’d be embarrassed and angry and… no.” Merlin shivered a moment, just thinking about it. It wasn’t just the fear of drowning – although that was huge part of it, but of disappointing Arthur, too. And to be that close to him, nothing between them but water and a bit of wet cloth, was both exciting and terrifying. Better to just let it go.

“Have I ever gone back on my word?” Arthur wasn’t about to drop it, apparently.

“No, but you can’t understand. You seem to be fearless, and I’m….” Merlin shrugged, loosening Arthur’s grip on his shoulder. “I’m a coward.”

The sour look Arthur gave him was almost comforting. “That is ridiculous. You told my father off the other day. No one does that. He’s so used to getting his way and you just stood there and refused to back down. And if you can do that and live, you can do anything.”

“It wasn’t the same thing and you know it.”

“Probably not but still, I know you, Merlin, and you are not a coward.” Arthur shoved at him a moment, then, blue eyes intense with decision, he said, “Let me help you. I promise we will start small. No diving on your first try, all right?”

When Arthur was like that, almost sweet, Merlin could deny him nothing. “No pushing me into the water, no holding me under.” Arthur nodded, solemn as a vow. “No ripping my trunks off me and throwing them away.”

At that, Arthur grinned. “That will be the second lesson.”

Merlin’s heart started to hammer in his chest; the thought of water washing over him, pulling him down, the terror of not being able to breathe, of drowning, was almost overwhelming. There must have been panic in his eyes because Arthur turned serious again. “Have I ever let you down?”

"Well… if you are asking, I have a list, a long one; and we both know Morgana would never forgive me if I left something off."

"Har, har, har. You are not funny, you know." Arthur looked almost hurt but then he raised one eyebrow and put on his stubborn Merlin-is-being-a-right-idiot face as he said, "Besides, you are diverting again. It's fine if you don't want to but I think I can help. I want to try."

Bloody hell. An offer to help, a sincere one, and no snark. Merlin couldn't say no. "We can both agree that you are trying at times but… okay." Merlin swallowed hard even as Arthur's face lit up. "Don't push it."

"Right. I promise, no pushing. We'll start slow."

When Arthur didn't follow up with an insult, he knew that Arthur was serious about it. The dollophead could be terribly lovable at times – although he'd never admit it to Arthur because that would just ruin things between them. But even with Arthur looking hopeful, it still took a while before he nodded.

As soon as he did, Arthur grinned. Pulling him to his feet with one tug of his hand, still holding onto him in a loose grip as he led Merlin toward the water, there seemed to be excitement in Arthur’s step, in the way he moved, an eagerness that would normally be so very appealing. It was as though Arthur wanted to share his love of the sea and couldn’t wait to start.

Merlin thought he was going to vomit.

No matter how warm Arthur's hand, the sea's overwhelming presence and the memories kept him on a knife's-edge. Trying to keep a brave face for Arthur's sake, trying not to shiver and pull away, he took one step and then another.

But the sand was encasing him, his feet caught in the wet and he found it hard to move. Around him, the waves seemed to rise up and then crash, a noisy threat, and as the water retreated, there was a rough, oddly hostile sucking sound close to him. His feet sunk further into the sand, and he felt like he was being pulled under, down, down until he couldn't breathe.

With a great yank, he pulled out of Arthur's hold, scurrying back up the shore. His vision was greying around the edges. He felt as if his chest was full of boulders and he couldn't stop running, running, running.

Behind him, Arthur was shouting something but it didn't matter. He had to get away before it was too late.

He didn't even try to fight it. Panicking, Merlin couldn't see where he was going and the seaweed on the beach kept tripping him up. There were other shouts, too, annoyance and warning as he scrambled past. Someone pushed him out of their way or fended him off – he wasn't sure which. But in trying to regain his balance, it only made things worse. Clumsiness was his downfall as always, twisting him this way and that until he ended up sprawled on the beach, face down in the sand.

Somewhere in the chaos, he could hear a snigger quickly suppressed and a gather of mutterings before the noise faded away. The panic was waning, too. He knew he could keep it at bay as long as he didn't look back at the water. The sand was warm under him and he could pretend that he was alright, that he was just relaxing in the sun. Except for Arthur, of course, who now knew him for the coward he was.

"Merlin…." He didn't want to hear that voice, didn't want to listen to the man he loved mocking him for his weakness. It was too much.

"Just… go." Squeezing his eyes shut, holding back a whimper that would only show Arthur how scared he still was, he waved him away. "Wouldn't want your reputation sullied being around a loser."

"You are an idiot." His voice was odd, not annoyed but more concerned than anything.

The only thing worse than Arthur thinking him a coward was pity. Trying to salvage what little pride he had left, Merlin said, "Okay, idiot then. Go away."

Of course, Arthur ignored him. "Not until I know you are all right."

"I'm fine. Glad you asked. Go _away_."

Of course, Arthur didn't listen. He never did. Instead, while Merlin lay there, wanting to bury his head in the sand and never come out again, the prat plopped down next to Merlin. A quick furtive look in his direction and Merlin groaned into his fist. It looked as if Arthur was settling in for a long, long talk. Shit.

"Is this how it normally is?"

"What? Being embarrassed? Tripping over my own feet? My mouth full of sand?"

Something must had registered because Arthur shifted a little, then leaned down and watched him as he said, "You are a clumsy clod at the best of times." When Merlin just let out a frustrated growl, Arthur didn't back down. "No, the other thing. The water."

Merlin looked up at that. He didn't want to talk about it but it was obvious that Arthur just couldn't take a hint.

"Do we have to do this here? Where everyone can hear how much of a pathetic loser I am?"

"You're not… fine, let's take this somewhere more private. My flat. Now."

Arthur rose up, brushed his hands across thighs and trunks, dislodging sand everywhere. Then, he reached down, one hand out toward Merlin.

"Fine." Merlin wanted to take it and never let go. But he also didn't want to show any more weakness than he already had, and so ignoring Arthur's outstretched hand, he scrambled to his feet. "I don't need your help getting up, you know."

Arthur just rolled his eyes. "I didn't think you did."

* * *

Normally, Arthur would have nattered on and on about getting sand in his precious car, an Aston Martin thank you very much, but it was grim silence as he drove them to his flat.

Posh, entitled, gorgeous, sometimes Merlin hated him.

It didn't get much better when they went inside. Arthur threw his keys onto the table, muttered something about needing a drink. Spilling tequila into a large glass, shoving a beer into Merlin's hands without asking, Arthur pointed to the sofa.

Arthur took a long gulp, coughing a little as he did, and then set down the glass, a sharp irritated sound, onto the table. When he plopped onto the leather sofa, and Merlin just stood there, uncertain, Arthur sent him a glare that could brooked no argument. He sunk down on the far side, out of reach.

Merlin wanted to ignore the beer. He wanted to keep a clear head but it was too hard. Hoping it would settle him a little, he swallowed most of it down, more than half a bottle at one go. Liquid courage. Later, when the humiliation was complete and he went back to his own flat, he'd drown himself in alcohol and try and forget this day ever happened.

"Merlin, talk to me." When Merlin just shook his head and took another drink, Arthur seemed more frustrated than anything else. "Is it always like that?"

Why did Arthur have to keep pushing this? It wasn't as if he didn't know that Merlin was a coward. And he was getting a little frustrated himself. He just wanted to be gone.

"Look, I… just say what you have to say and I'll leave."

"I'm not… I don't want you to leave, you cabbage-head." Arthur sat there a moment, staring at him, frowning again as if he didn't get why Merlin was so upset. "I just want to understand."

"What's to understand? I panic every time I go in the water. Even near it. It’s not that hard to figure out." He took another gulp and found he'd finished the bottle. Grumbling under his breath, he set it down, then leaned back, folded his arms tight around his chest. Looking away, he said, "I can't stand the water. I can't. And I know that makes me a coward and less in your eyes but that's the way I am."

"You are not a coward, you bloody fool. Stop saying that." Merlin looked back at him, surprised at his vehemence. Arthur was shoving his fingers through his hair, too, a habit they both knew Arthur did when he was upset.

"Look, Arthur, I've had to live with this a long time. I've had to watch you and your friends and mine enjoy swimming and jet skiing and even surfing – although how Gwaine could manage to stay on a surfboard while thoroughly pissed is beyond me. And I knew I couldn't. I was left behind and I couldn't say anything because I knew you'd mock me for it."

"Don't talk rubbish. Just because I insult you every chance I get – and you give back as good as you get and you know it – doesn't mean I don't care. And I certainly wouldn't mock you for something so important." He was still pulling at his hair but then he must have realised what he was doing because he stopped, laying his hand down flat on his thigh. "You should know that. We've known each other a long time, Merlin. I thought you trusted me to have your back."

"I do. I just… I've… it's hard." He pulled his arms in tighter, and turned away, avoiding Arthur's gaze. "You are so fucking perfect, it's hard to keep up."

"That's bollocks and you know it." When Merlin looked up at that, Arthur closed the gap, was glaring at him, boxing him into the sofa's end. Close enough to touch. "I'm as imperfect as they get. It's you that's… oh never mind that. Just for once, trust me. I might be able to help."

He didn't know what to say. There was so much going on in his head: shame, wonder, arousal – although around Arthur, arousal was a given. But there was helplessness, too, with Arthur pushing so hard about something so private. Arthur could always get past his barricades and now was no different.

"Come on, Merlin, give." Arthur looked at him with such sincerity and he just couldn't say no, not to him. Not really ever.

But that didn't mean that Merlin couldn't drag his feet a bit. "Fine." Then gathering his courage, he said, "Every time I go near the water, I… remember how I couldn't breathe. How I didn't know which way was up and it was so scary and…."

When he stumbled to a stop, he was surprised to find Arthur's arm around him, squeezing a little. Such warmth. Merlin just wanted to lean into it, into him and never come out again.

"Merlin, just breathe, you idiot."

He was breathing. Barely. It didn't help that the mixture of memory and Arthur's embrace were doing things to him; he wasn't sure that the shallow gulps of air he kept taking were from fear or desire. Probably both.

It was a heady mixture.

Finally, trying to get his mind off Arthur's nearness and the way his prat's now-dried swim trunks rode up when he shifted, the tangled hair and the hints of beard, the way Arthur would bite his lip sometimes when he was nervous and a thousand other wonderful, terrible things that made Arthur beautiful, Merlin took a deliberate breath of air and let it out slowly. Sending Arthur a weak smile, he said, "Yeah, I know. It's just hard."

Arthur grinned back, and loosened his grip on Merlin's shoulder, giving him a little shake. But he didn't withdraw completely, just let his arm rest on the back of the sofa, close to Merlin's neck. So close.

"So what happened?"

Looking down at his hands, Merlin shrugged. "I was being a kid. We'd just moved to the beach and I couldn't wait to go into the water. I'd waded in pools before but this was something the bigger kids could do." He glanced up at Arthur. He'd been such a stupid kid, doing stupid things and even now it sounded ridiculous. "My mum was fussing so much that I couldn't stand it. You know how it is. Parents worrying about stuff you think isn't important. So when she wasn't looking, I took off, jumped straight into the water. Didn't see the rocks just under the surface."

"I bet Hunith was frantic."

Arthur didn't look too happy, either; his arm was back around Merlin's shoulder, his fingers warm against his skin, obviously trying to comfort and not knowing how. It felt good, though. And it was helping, just a little.

"She was beside herself, especially when she couldn't find me right away. Mum said that I was under the water a long time and I remember thrashing around and screaming for her but that only let the water in. And I was choking and I…."

Panic rising again, he buried his face in Arthur's shoulder. It didn't matter that it made him look weak or that Arthur might be horrified by his neediness. He just needed comfort.

The weird thing was that Arthur didn't pull away, just tugged him a little closer, whispered into his hair, "It's okay, it's okay, just breathe."

It didn't help that Arthur seemed to surround him. He was so close that Merlin could have counted the fine hairs on his arms, could see the tug and pull of Arthur's trunks against his thighs, could feel the way his fingers were tight against Merlin's arm, and the steady in-and-out movement of his chest.

He began to breathe again, synchronized with Arthur's own, and it calmed him.

"It was a near thing. She pulled me out and someone there knew how to deal with me not breathing. I coughed up a lot of water." A little sound of distress came from somewhere near the top of Merlin's head but he knew he had to get it out. It was almost done anyway. "Mum fussed for weeks afterwards and she made me promise not to go without her next time. Little did she know that I never wanted to go near the water again." Now that it was finished, he felt relieved, a little tired, as if the telling of it took a lot out of him. "Even now, I can't take baths."

Then he realised what he'd said and waited for the insults to start again. It didn't take long.

"I thought I smelt something ripe." The funny thing is that Arthur hadn't let him go, just murmured it into Merlin's hair.

He wasn't going to object. At least something seemed settled between them, a kind of closeness that he'd not felt before. But he couldn't let the insult pass.

"I take showers, you arse."

He could have pulled away at that, made some kind of excuse for clinging to Arthur like a limpet but he was where he wanted to be. It would be up to Arthur to retreat back into their old ways of dealing with each other.

"I'm sure. It's just that I haven't seen any evidence of it."

It was said lightly but Arthur didn't move away; his arm was still around Merlin's shoulder, one hand holding him close, his other hand resting on his own thigh with fingertips close enough to reach out and touch Merlin's skin, if he wanted to. And Merlin wanted him to, so badly.

Still, he couldn't just outright say it. Still a coward when it came to Arthur. The thought of rejection and how Arthur would look at him once Merlin had finally got the bollocks to confess about how he felt was almost as terrifying as the ocean trying to drown him.

Instead, he tried to turn it around, to make something light of it, sarcastic and silly and them. But it didn't exactly come out that way. "Why, you want to watch?"

There was a hitch in Arthur's breathing and then a laugh rumbling deep in his chest. His hand must have moved because Merlin could feel fingers light on his thigh, near the edge of his trunks; he looked down to see that it was true.

It wasn't his imagination. Arthur was touching him. Whether it was deliberate or not was another matter and Merlin wasn't sure what to do about it.

But much to his horror, he was starting to grow hard. If something didn't break soon, Arthur would know. It would be pretty obvious. He leaned back, head resting on the sofa, eyes closed, and tried not to think about it.

"You could use a good scrubbing." Arthur's voice was almost seductive but he hadn't moved away, seemed to murmur into Merlin's ear. "All those hard-to-reach places."

Shit. If he didn't know better, if it had been anyone else, Merlin would have sworn Arthur was trying to chat him up. It made his face burn. His gaze flicked up to Arthur's a moment, looking into eyes intense with some unnamed emotion; he stammered out, "I bet you have hard places, too. I… I mean you have hard-to-reach places."

A soft snort. "You had it right the first time." Arthur was smiling down at him, just this side of predatory, pressing his fingers a little harder, a little deeper into Merlin's skin, searching under his trunks, into the crease between thigh and hip. And then his mouth, Arthur's wet wonderful mouth, was busy with his, driving him mad with it.

Merlin wanted to groan and move into his body closer, wanted to grab Arthur's palm and thrust into it. It felt so good. And for a moment, he just let things go, enjoyed every motion of those glorious fingers and Arthur's busy tongue.

But it couldn't be true, could it? Had he been wrong all this time? Or was Arthur just being a friend, giving comfort before retreating into that don't-touch-me attitude he had? Was this just a pity fuck to make him feel better? It would be worse than never having him at all, knowing it would be only once and never again.

He had to stop it before it was too late. "Wait, wait, what is this? Are you…? Is this?"

For the briefest of moments, Arthur looked as wild as Merlin felt, flicking his gaze down to Merlin's mouth before shaking his head, and letting go. Fingertips gone from Merlin's skin, all warmth and intensity no longer encircling him, Arthur leaned back, as far away as he could go without moving to the other side of the sofa.

His voice should have been playful but instead it was this side of angry. "Articulate as ever, Merlin."

Feeling off-kilter, confused and horribly wonderfully hard, he rubbed his hand over his face, then with fingers flailing in the air, Merlin said, "This isn't a fuck the poor sod who's afraid of water and make him feel better, is it?"

When Arthur scowled, Merlin wasn't far behind in the sharp frown on his face. He wouldn't be some kind of contemptable loser who only got shagged because he was so pathetic. It didn't matter that he'd only ever wanted Arthur. He wouldn't be the friend that everyone made sad eyes at and whispered about behind his back. "Because if it is, I'll leave now and we won't ever talk about it again."

Arthur rolled his eyes - he'd been doing a lot of that lately – and sent Merlin a look of pure exasperation. Then reaching for him, both hands cupping his neck, Arthur pulled him closer, close enough that it was almost too painful not to fall back into that lush mouth of his.

But Arthur didn't kiss him, only shook him a little, emphasizing his words with every movement. "Don't… be… an… idiot."

When Merlin went to protest, opening his mouth, Arthur cut him off. "Don't even." His hands gentled a little, thumbs moving over the planes of Merlin's throat, sending shivers down his spine. It was very distracting. "I've wanted you for ages. But you always had this barrier and I thought it was me that you had the problem with. Unless… I fucked up? Are you not into blokes? I thought…."

Worry on Arthur's face, his hands fell away and he looked as uncertain as Merlin had ever seen him.

Merlin was still trying to catch up. Finally processing what Arthur had been saying, he realised that he might have been an idiot after all. Still, he wanted to make sure.

"So it's not a pity fuck?"

If Arthur kept rolling his eyes like that, they'd fall out of his head. His mouth, too, was starting to turn upward a bit, his scowl morphing into that irritating smirk he's perfected. Never mind that Merlin found it endearing.

"Not unless you want it to be." He'd said it slowly as if talking to a gormless simpleton. Which at the moment was kind of how Merlin was feeling.

But he had to make sure. "I can't do it just once. I'm not… I'm not a one-time-only kind of bloke."

"I figure we have two maybe three rounds in us before dark. Then dinner to recover, then I want to introduce you to being fucked into the mattress and then the rest of the flat. You won't be able to walk for a week." Arthur was leaning in again, his smirk, damn him, was a full-blown study in domination and desire. He looked as if he wanted to eat Merlin alive. "And neither will I."

Shit, he wanted that, too. "Arthur?"

Realising what Merlin was asking, Arthur shook his head. His eyes dark with desire, he leaned forward, whispering against Merlin's skin. "Yes, Merlin, I'm not a one-time-only bloke either. So will you shut up now and let me kiss you or do you want to use that mouth of yours to harangue me some more? Because I can think of better things for it to do."

Merlin's couldn't breathe again but this time, it was for a very different reason. As steady as he could, he said, "Arthur, shutting up now."

"About bloody time." And then Arthur captured Merlin's mouth with his own.

It was better than anything he'd ever felt. Desire was pooling in his groin; no, that wasn't right, it was centering down and then curling up his spine in a fire-storm of want.

He didn't know if it was lucky or not but they were only dressed in trunks and tshirts and those would be unbelievably easy to remove. Another time, he'd want to do it slowly, exploring all that golden skin of Arthur's, to find out what made him groan, what made him desperate, what made him boneless with post-orgasmic bliss.

But for now, there was no time for slow.

Arthur pulled off Merlin's shirt, catching on his ears a bit, then licking everywhere his tongue could reach.

Merlin, too, was busy, trying to tug Arthur's clothes off him, but there were arms and legs and kisses in the way, and Arthur was remarkably persistent in driving him insane. Finally he gave up, pushing Arthur down into the sofa. The man was a feast and Merlin wanted to devour all of him.

He slid down on top of Arthur, hands reaching up to cradle his face in his hands, stopping him a moment to just look at how uncontrolled Arthur was. Eyes wild, pupils as black as Merlin had ever seen, his mouth already reddening from want and Merlin wanted, oh how he wanted.

Underneath him, Arthur wasn't about to just lay there apparently, not giving his all for England and bollocks like that. As frantic as Merlin, Arthur shoved up, already hard, rubbing against Merlin's cock, sending sparks up his spine with every movement. He was mouthing, "Come on, come on." Then he leaned up, grabbing Merlin's neck and dragging him down for another impossible kiss.

It seemed to go on forever, that kiss, but Arthur's hands were busy, raking down across his back, pulling at Merlin's trunks and shoving them down as far as he could reach.

Merlin wanted to cooperate, he really did. But Arthur wouldn't let him up long enough to get rid of those bloody trunks. Instead, Arthur's hands were kneading at Merlin's arse and pulling him closer, as if trying to drive himself into his skin and never come out again.

But he could give as good as he got. Jerking his hips forward, grinding himself against Arthur, his hands were busy raking down Arthur's side and then underneath. His arse was hot in Merlin's palms, a perfect handful, and he was tugging Arthur closer so that the cloth trapped between them wasn't a barrier so much as something else to drive them to distraction.

Besides, trunks were loose for a reason.

Arthur must have recognized it at the same time. He grabbed one arse cheek and squeezed, then tried to shimmy down a bit, his fingers busy with Merlin's crack.

It felt so good and he wanted it so badly that he budged up a little, hoping that Arthur would start fingering him. But the angle was wrong, and instead, all it did was frustrate them both.

Growling with thwarted lust, Merlin pulled one hand out, away from the warmth of Arthur's arse, and protests aside, he shoved his own bloody trunks down. They caught at his thighs, trapping him a little but at least his cock was free.

"About time," Arthur mouthed into Merlin's throat.

Trying to help Arthur out of his trunks was another matter. The git kept rubbing against him, almost as if he wanted to melt into Merlin, and since the two of them were pressing down onto the couch, there wasn't much chance for getting it off Arthur.

Hip movement, on the other hand, was going swimmingly – no pun intended.

Finally, giving up the fight and instead of removing his clothes, Merlin just shoved one hand under and through Arthur's trunks, fingering the joint between thigh and hip, skimming past rough hair and needy bollocks, and squeezed the hot handful there.

Arthur liked that, very much. It was obvious from the way he groaned, his head falling back exposing his throat, and best of all, the sudden blissful swell of his cock. There was wetness, too. As Merlin's thumb swiped over the head, more leaked out.

The groan turned into begging, not with words but in the way Arthur shoved into him, making Merlin's hand slip a bit, creating friction and more friction. Hot and heavy and brilliant.

Not to be outdone, Arthur grabbed at him. His hands dug into Merlin's arse, fingers rough on his skin, then amazingly, finding his hole and pushing one finger in.

It stung a little, but not enough to move away from Arthur's busy hands. No lube was a problem and there was likely sand in there somewhere but he didn't care. The pain was its own excitement, shooting up his spine and creating a swirl of need and growing lust that he couldn't fight, didn't want to fight. Instead he tried to push back, have Arthur fill him with heat and agonized pleasure.

But it was the wrong move or rather a brilliant move because as his finger slipped further into Merlin's arse, Arthur must have gathered what to do with his other hand.

Merlin's cock had been a bit neglected.

And Arthur knew how to turn a warm palm with a bit of a twist, fingers busy on the underside, thumb scraping just the tiniest bit along eager flesh, to fire Merlin's mind with stiffening desire.

It was ridiculous really. Both hands nudging each other, almost battling it out for space between them and two cocks growing, swelling, urgent for relief. In another universe, Merlin might have magiced the clothes away, might have got Arthur naked with some ridiculous spell – he'd been teased often enough about his name over the years to think about such things. But now he'd just have to cope with a tshirt rumpling up between them and Arthur's trunks that were a little too tight against Merlin's wrist. Because he'd be damned if he'd let go now.

Another moan from Arthur. Merlin could tell he was close. His fingers were still pushing at Merlin's hole but they were more restless than purposeful, as if Arthur wasn't paying attention, as if he was soaring into orgasm and never coming down again. But Merlin didn't mind. His own spiraling lust was pulling him up, up, into that glorious brilliance.

But Merlin wanted Arthur to come first. A playful nip against Arthur's throat, hard enough to mark, then licking an apology down the cords of his neck, he pulled again on Arthur's cock, his fingers encircling, tightening, his thumb busy with the head. Just the right amount of pressure, the right amount of pleasure. And it was enough.

Giving a loud groan, a noise sounding very much like Merlin's name, then bucking up, Arthur went rigid as if his entire body were alit with ecstasy. Wet spirted out, coating Merlin's hand, blood-warm. And he reveled in it. He kept up the pressure a little, trying to prolong it as long as possible for Arthur's sake.

As Arthur turned pliant, breathing still heavy but slowing, his hands languid against Merlin's skin, he gave Arthur another tongue-sweet kiss. It was brilliant, it was Arthur, and Merlin hoped never to come up for air again.

His own orgasm was hovering close, ready to soar up, but Merlin fought hard to stave it off and enjoy the burn of pleasure denied. It was an ache, but one he knew would make the final pleasure so much more.

But Arthur must have known what he was doing. A quickened breath, and one finger plunged into his hole again while at the same time, his other hand was tugging fast, pressure released and intensified, fingers scraping along his cock head and Merlin helpless against it.

When Arthur bit down on his earlobe, it was enough.

The universe whited out as the pleasure soared up and down his spine, his skin seemed to light up with ecstasy. He didn't know if he shouted. His mouth was still full of Arthur but there was a swiftness of something so profound in him and around him and through him that he thought he'd die of it. His heart stuttered, his mind awash in brilliance.

Through it all, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.

He didn't know how long it was before he could think again. Arthur's hand was moving through the mess of come, spreading it a bit against Merlin's skin, languid kisses against his throat.

When he finally came back down, Arthur was smiling. Pompous, entitled, satisfied, as if he'd won the world and was exulting in it.

Merlin couldn't fault him. He felt so satiated that he doubted he could move. Instead he smiled back, then lay back down, nuzzling into Arthur's neck. He didn't object when Arthur started circling his hole again, using Merlin's own come for lube. He was sensitive enough but it felt increasingly good. But on the other hand, the sofa didn't make it exactly easy to reciprocate.

Reaching up, giving Arthur another unhurried kiss, Merlin then pulled back. "I believe you said something about a mattress earlier."

For a moment, Arthur was silent, staring up at him. Then the most supercilious, full-of-himself smirk that Merlin had ever seen came over the git's face. "Fucking you into it, yes." But as Arthur said it, as he watched Merlin, his finger was already busy pushing into Merlin's hole and exploring there.

Merlin couldn't help himself. He gave a little groan and started to move southward, grinding himself into Arthur's questing finger. It felt so damn good. And though he was exhausted and not ready yet for another go, his cock was already turning traitor. He'd do anything for Arthur. Anything.

Arthur's smirk grew greedy. With one final circle of his finger, he pulled back, wiping his hand on Merlin's hip. And when Merlin thought about protesting, Arthur cut him off, gave a quick slap to his arse. Pushing him aside, sitting up, then standing, he said, "I know a mattress that we could use."

Reaching down with one come-stained hand, Arthur's invitation was clear. Merlin grinned at him, then allowed himself to be pulled up.

It was ridiculous, of course. Arthur was standing there, fully clothed even if his trunks were dark with the remnants of their first time together. He looked like a warrior god, all that golden skin, his mouth full of satisfaction. On the other hand, Merlin's skinny body was on display, his tshirt flung onto one chair, his trunks around his ankles. It was embarrassing. Or it would have been if Arthur hadn't snorted, then pulled Merlin hard to him.

"That was our first go around. Ready for a second?"

And when Arthur reached out and palmed him, making Merlin groan again with want, it must have been enough of an answer for him. "I'll take that as a yes."

A kiss, ever more intense, full of tongue and heat and lust, left no doubt. But just in case it did, Merlin murmured, "If you don't want me to fall to my knees right now, I suggest we find that mattress. Soon."

Arthur's eyes darkened even as his smirk returned. "Kneeling before me." He gave Merlin's bollocks a little squeeze, then traced fingers up his hardening cock, encircling it. "As it should be. Sucking me, swallowing me down."

Helpless to say anything remotely understandable, his mind full of images of Arthur thrusting into him, Merlin just grunted and pushed into Arthur's hand. It felt so good.

But Arthur must have known what he was doing to him, talking of practicalities, all the while playing him like a porny fiddle. As Merlin was panting for it, he kept chattering away. "We need lube and condoms and something to clean you up afterwards. I plan on taking you in oh so many ways that we might need extra supplies. Maybe I should pop down to Tesco's and get.…"

Finally Merlin couldn't stand it any longer. He reached up, gave Arthur a hard kiss just to shut him up. "Less talking. More shagging."

Then, impossible as it was to do, he pulled Arthur's hand away from his cock, and started dragging him, Arthur grinning all the way, into the bedroom. It was obscene really, Merlin's cock bouncing a bit as he moved but he couldn't be arsed to care. He wanted Arthur and he wanted him now.

Luckily, the git agreed.

* * *

Later, with Merlin shagged out and pleasantly exhausted, Arthur kept running hands down Merlin's flank as if getting ready for another go – and no matter how much Merlin didn't have it in him to move at the moment, he was up for it.

"We are going to work on your fear of the water." Arthur moved closer, nipped at Merlin's throat before pulling back and smiling down at him. "If nothing else, shagging in a bathtub can be fun."

A little thrill of fear still waited at the base of his heart at the very idea but Merlin smiled back, anyway. He knew that it wouldn't be easy or as quick as Arthur would like, but for him, anything and always.

"I can't wait."

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**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: Betaed by the fabulous camelittle. Honestly, she's wonderful.  
> This was part of the merlin_writers bingo card that I never finished filling. The square read "Day at the Beach". I immediately thought about some of the photos I'd taken at Galway bay where guys were jumping/diving into the water. Photo at the end of the story.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; It and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement


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